Noirceur
by Northlight
Summary: Zack's escape from Manticore turns out differently. This time, he isn't alone. (Possible WiP)


_ Title: Noirceur (1/1?)  
Summary: Zack's escape from Manticore turns out differently. This time, he isn't alone.  
Rating: PG, just because I refuse to write anything G.  
Disclaimer: Cameron and Eglee.  
Date: March 16, 17, 2001.  
Note: This is _possibly_ a multi-parter. However, I'm not saying so for certain. Whenever I say that I'm writing a multi-parter, my muse rebels and leaves me hanging mid-way through the series._

* * *

Other little girls had grown up playing in neatly fenced in backyards, on driveways, in parks, on sidewalks supervised by mothers from opened kitchen windows. Brin had grown up in these woods, engaging in Manticore's own unique definition of "play." Dozens of children seeking and evading, hiding in trees, buried beneath piles of leaves, hoping to escape notice until Lydecker called an end to their session. Dropped deep into the forest, with nothing save their clothes and their Manticore-created selves and told to survive by their own wits and skills. 

Brin moved quickly, booted feet darting between exposed roots and fallen branches almost without benefit of conscious thought. She had carefully set aside her fear, locked all distracting emotions away in the back of her mind. She focused on her objective to the complete exclusion of the franticly scurrying thoughts that had plagued her for the moments she had hovered indecisively in the grey-blue halls outside the infirmary. 

This could quite possibly be a test, a trap. Manticore was nothing if not inventive with its emotional and psychological tortures. No, Brin decided, it had been Zack on that bed. She had barely caught a glimpse of him before his still form and its two attendants had disappeared through the doors at leading into the infirmary. A longer look had not been necessary. Brin _knew_ Zack. She had grown up with him, she had followed his commands, placed her life in his hands more often than she could recall. The very feel of him was ingrained into her consciousness. 

She broke free of the trees and drew in a sharp gasp. Headstones. Rows upon rows of headstones. Brin stood silent in deeply felt mourning, fingers curling and uncurling uselessly at her sides. Sharp eyes easily picked out the barcodes carved into the otherwise unmarked headstones. Memories rose unbidden at the sight of those familiar patterns. Tosh - dark eyed devil, she had heard him referred as by an exasperated trainer. Ro - small and shivering, and Brin recalled how the other girl had adored the flowers that clung tenaciously to the grounds around Manticore. Tal - still so very young when they had taken him away for testing and hadn't brought him back. More still. Those who had died during the escape. Those who had fallen in the years after. Their predecessors. The following generations. 

Training overrode Brin's moment of entirely human sorrow. She broke off the flow of memories, fitted herself once more into the mould of the Manticore soldier she needed to be. Zack's plot lay at the other end of the cemetery. Brin picked her way across the ground, knowing her actions foolish but remaining at the foot of the plots, loathe to tread across the buried bodies of her brothers and sisters. She stopped short of Zack's grave, eyes widening slightly as she saw earth buckle upwards. 

Brin flung her arm across her face as clumps of earth flew about her. A solid thunk loud in the night's silence as the top of Zack's coffin collided with the damp grass. She could feel Zack moving, a less than steady leap out from the smothering ground and he was moving towards her. His eyes were wild, animal terror and survival instincts submerging all rational thought. Zack's lips were drawn back into a snarl, a surprisingly close approximation of the animals bred into him. Quick and vicious with his desperation, Zack had Brin pinned to the ground before she could effectively move to counter his unthinking attack. 

"Zack," Brin called out softly, her best attempt to soothe him verbally. He snarled, low and angry in his throat. He was going to kill her if she didn't reach him. Brin's hands lashed out, caught Zack's face in a tight grip. "Don't be such an idiot, Zack." She pulled down, hard, bringing his face against her neck. "C'mon, you know me." He caught her scent, stopped his struggles and held still for a moment before he slumped down against her. 

His head lifted, Zack's eyes searching out her own. "Brin?" Zack rasped. 

It would have been entirely inappropriate to laugh, so Brin settled on a wide smile. "Hey, there." He didn't smile back, but Brin hadn't expected him to. She could still hear his heart, feel it like thunder against her own chest. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but I think we should hold off on the reunion until later." She nudged his shoulder -- beset by fine tremors -- and Zack realized their position. He rolled off of her and drew in a deep breath before attempting to rise. 

"Let's get out of here," Zack said. 

"I'm with you," Brin acknowledged. Zack wobbled, and ignoring what her actions were sure to do to Zack's pride, Brin came up behind him, one arm moving around Zack to steady him. He stiffened slightly but lay his arm around her shoulder. He was probably no more eager to remain here than was she. He never would have consented to her support before, would most likely not have done so now were there not freshly awakened demons close at their heels. 

...~*~... 

Brin had shared a motel room with Zack once before, years ago. She had been thirteen, living in a home for runaway teens in Montreal when Zack had shown up. Brin hadn't seen him since the escape and held a thousand different questions, but had kept silent at Zack's gesture. 'They're coming,' his flickering hands screamed, and he had gestured towards the back of the building. There was an open window there, second floor, and they had slipped outside together, easily falling back into old working relationships. 

She hadn't had any money, and hadn't asked when Zack pulled out a crumpled handful of bills. He had paid for a room for the night, ignored the odd look cast in their direction, and had motioned for Brin to follow him. They had spent that night perched on the room's two beds, discussing their plans. That was the only time Brin could recall Zack consulting with her about her own future. Maybe he'd found over the years that ordering them into action was quicker and ultimately more efficient than listening to them. Whatever sparks of discontent Brin had harboured at that less than two-sided interaction was balanced by appreciation for her continued freedom ensured by Zack's vigilance. 

Zack hadn't been in good enough shape to so much as offer a command by the time they reached the motel room he and Brin currently inhabited. Brin had stripped off Zack's dirt-caked clothing, wincing in sympathy at the sight of the injuries she found. They would heal in time, Brin knew from personal experience. She could only guess that the combination of drugs Manticore had been feeding to keep Zack relatively docile and the extreme physical stress their escape had demanded of his weakened body was serving to retard his healing process. 

Brin had taken one of the threadbare white washcloths from the bathroom and had wetted it. She sat at the edge of the bed where Zack lay, carefully dabbing at Zack's chest. She studied the jagged cut in Zack's side as she considered his question. Brin wasn't quite sure that she could explain the series of events that had led her to this point to herself, much less to him. 

"They tried to reprogram me, of course," Brin began abruptly. "I suppose it worked, to some degree. But when I saw you..." she shrugged. "I don't know, Zack. Something inside of me just opened right back up. Maybe I just associate you with freedom. I knew that I had to get to you, that we'd be able to get out of there together." She had known he was still alive despite the attendants' words to the contrary. Brin didn't have to tell Zack that. He knew what death felt and tasted and smelt like. That sense hadn't hovered about Zack's body when she had seen it. 

He didn't quite trust her story. Brin didn't blame him. She held a few worries about their circumstances herself. "I checked for transmitters," Brin stated. "Both of us are clean." 

Zack nodded. "Brin--" 

"Yes?" 

"I'm glad you're out." 

She smiled slightly, no real good humour evident in the expression. "Me too." 

He let her settle into her own bed before he spoke again. "We'll separate tomorrow," Zack declared into her silence. 

Brin rolled onto her side, facing Zack in the darkness, pillow folded beneath her head. "So soon?" she protested. Brin had known that Zack would order their separation, he had been doing so since that first night. She had hoped that they would have more time together. Ten years she had been running and hiding, alone in her memories, her abilities, her very being. She had run into some of the others -- Syl, Zane, Max -- and those encounters served to strengthen her. Manticore fresh in her mind and body, sunk anew into her soul, Brin needed that strength. 

"We don't have a choice, Brin." 

"Zack?" 

"It isn't open to debate," he replied to her soft call. 

"That's not what I was going to say," Brin protested, her voice sharp with sudden annoyance. She fell onto her back, turned her head towards the opposite wall and blinked back her emotions. Zack shifted, the bed squeaking as he turned. He didn't speak, but his sigh told her that he was sorry. "You remember Jason?" she asked and smiled slightly at Zack's answering snort of derision. "When we were together, towards the end, I thought I was pregnant." 

"You didn't tell me," Zack's voice was mildly accusatory. 

"I thought you'd make me get rid of the baby. I'm tired of loosing family, Zack. I'm tired of not having anyone with me who I'm allowed to care about." Brin could still clearly remember her mingled sense of terror and joy she had felt during those brief days. 

"I don't want to have to keep everyone apart, Brin. You know that. I'm doing this to keep all of you alive and free," his response was sharp and defensive, tired of having his decisions questioned by all of them -- tired of having to justify his desire to keep them alive. 

"That isn't why I told you about it," Brin shot back. "I know you're doing what you think best for us. I..." she bit the inside of her cheek, counted away her frustration, one to ten, to twenty, to thirty, until she could continue without falling apart. "I just needed to say it, Zack. Nobody else understands what it's like. I just needed to know that you do." 

"Yes," Zack answered. And because he'd given her that much, Brin closed her eyes and clamped her teeth down against her lower lip, biting back the words the longed to spill forth. 

She woke crying into her pillow, her body tensed in useless readiness. A nightmare, nothing but a nightmare, Brin told herself firmly. Her body didn't listen, still shaking with tension beneath the twisted covers. She kicked off the sheets and lay sprawled on the thin mattress, sucking in calming breaths. 

Zack was awake, she could feel him, alert and ready. Unlike Max and Jondy, Zack couldn't do without sleep. He could, however, snap back into wakefulness at the slightest sensed change in his surroundings. Brin's nightmare had probably shaken him out of sleep before it had her. 

The need rose in her so suddenly Brin nearly gasped. She tried to fight it back, knowing that Zack would not appreciate her display of emotions. She finally gave up the useless battle and rolled off her bed. She padded across the space between them quickly. "Just shut up, Zack," Brin warned him as she dropped onto the bed beside him. She lay her head against his chest, surprised when Zack's arm slowly draped across her waist. Touch had always been important to Brin. Merely resting shoulder to shoulder with her siblings had served to help her reconnect after stressful situations. She had never sensed that same need in Zack, before. But maybe he'd just always been better at hiding it, because Zack hugged her right back before relaxing against her. 

...~*~... 

There was a small restaurant two blocks from their former motel room. Zack and Brin sat at one of the tables that offered them the best strategic positioning. From their small table, the two X5s could were not immediately visible from the door or windows, while they could both clearly see all entrances. Should trouble arise, they would see it coming and would be able to slip away before normal human eyes processed their departure. 

Both of them had a large plate set before them. Like all of Manticore's children, Brin and Zack could survive for long periods of time with minimal amounts of food. However, it was always safer and healthier to consume a healthy quantity of food after a sustained and physically demanding job. Brin stabbed at her pile of scrambled eggs, raising a forkfull to her mouth. They were terrible, but Brin chewed slowly and methodically. 

The radio was playing in the background, something soft and melancholy about love and heartbreak. Brin did her best to ignore the singer's mournfully wavering voice. Zack had already decided where she would be heading later that morning. Brin wasn't thrilled with his decision, but kept her protests to herself. She beat out a rhythm against the table's scarred top with a blunt, unvarnished nail. Zack sent her a warning scowl and Brin grinned at him, tapping out another playful message in the unspoken language they had all developed between them at Manticore. 

Zack's lips thinned. "Okay, Brin, now that really was terrible," he told her as Brin lazily drummed out a joke one of her old roommates had been particularly fond of. 

"I thought it was funny," Brin replied. 

"You would." 

Brin huffed with mock-outrage. "Are you implying something about my character with that remark?" 

Zack arched his eyebrows. It always amazed Brin how much Zack could say within a single expression. Emotions were firmly held at bay, but Zack had always had a knack for facial expressions that clearly conveyed disapproval, orders or pride. They hadn't been allowed to speak often or freely while in Manticore, but Zack had been able to prop up lagging spirits or cut them down with a single upward or downward twitch of usually straight-held lips. 

"Spoilsport," Brin murmured against her raised glass of orange juice. 

Zack crossed his knife and fork on his emptied plate and dropped his wadded up napkin atop them. He glanced at his watch and pushed back his chair. "Come on. Your bus is leaving in another half hour," Zack told Brin. 

"Right," Brin replied, popping her last bite of toast into her mouth. She gathered up her bag and the few necessities she and Zack had bought or stolen after their escape while Zack paid for their meal. Brin slung her bag over her shoulder and stood to wait for Zack by the door. She watched with some amusement as their waitress did her best to flirt with Zack, to no avail. Brin was sometimes amazed that Zack managed to evade every chance he had to enjoy himself, even when letting loose a bit posed no threat to any of them. It wasn't in Zack's character to loose sight of his responsibilities, but Brin couldn't see how Zack would be any less their dutiful protector were he to smile back at the by now frustrated blonde at the cash. 

Zack accompanied Brin to the bus station. Brin broke through the momentary awkwardness that always arose when Zack stayed to see her off and didn't simply disappear once his commands were delivered. She leaned forward, gripped Zack in a brief, tight hug before letting go. "Thanks." 

"You take care of yourself. Call me if you run into any problems," Zack said. Brin smiled slightly at the thought that this must be what a father would have been like had she ever known hers. 

Brin watched his retreating back until his form was swallowed up by the crowd, lost to even her enhanced sight. She turned towards the empty lot where her bus would be pulling up in the next few minutes. Brin gasped and swayed, her hands abandoning the strap of her bag to fling up against her head. Brin's fingertips pressed against her temples and she drew in deep gasps of air as she fought back a sudden wave of nausea. Beyond conscious recognition, the objective drilled into Brin during weeks of re-programming kicked in. 

She came back to herself slowly, her head clear and her momentary surge of pain already fading from her memory. Brin knew only that she could not get onto that bus. She _had_ to stay with Zack, his wishes be damned. 

Brin caught her bag off the ground where it had fallen and fixed it over her shoulders. The mud-splattered bus was pulling up when Brin darted away, determined to catch up to Zack before she truly lost him. 

...~*~... 


End file.
